


a song to come home to (or how Katya learned to fly)

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Series: fallen from grace [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Love at First Sight, M/M, RPDR7, mentions drug abuse, probably going to be some sex in drag later on, song!fic, techinically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katya first meets Santino in the workroom that day. It's everything she's ever dreamed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a song to come home to (or how Katya learned to fly)

 The workroom was quiet and tense, all of the girls pulling at their wigs in frustration and gnawing on their bright red lips as they scrambled to put something decent together. Everyone was on edge, everyone was stressed out of their mind - the competition was down to the top five and the stakes were higher than ever. Just two more weeks and it‘d be the Top 3 and three girls would be practically test tasting 100,000$ on their tongues. Not to mention they’d all been steadily avoiding each other, trying desperately not to give the other queens more reason to be loved by the audience. _Everyone_ wanted to win, and _no one_ wanted to be the asshole who sent the crowd favorite home.

Katya is especially on the edge - she hasn’t been this stressed and sleep deprived since she was suffering through late night shakes and trying to fix the damage she’d done to herself. She‘s exhausted, dark rings pooling under her eyes, and she‘s thin - it‘s been hard eating when all she can see are sequins and heels and party city. Her hands tremble as she attempts to sew together the cat suit, and the edges of her vision blur together - hues of pink and dark fabric blend together and she desperately rubs at her eyes.

She was going to lose this week. Everyone knew it. It’s probably why Ginger hadn’t slid a note under her door last night or why Violet kept sending her pitying glances.

Katya was never supposed to make it this far _anyways_ , so she’d come to terms with her fate. If anything, she should’ve gone home instead of Sasha Belle all those weeks ago and been dismissed at the beginning of the season like Tempest. She _wasn’t_ charismatic - okay, well, maybe she did kind of have the charisma part down. But she wasn’t unique - how many other queens used the tired old ‘hooker‘ act before and cursed like a sailor and made up stupid jokes. And she didn’t have nerve. She had all of the nerve of a small Pomeranian. Sure, she was talented at putting together an _outfit_ , but that’s as far as _that_ went.

Katya had known as soon as she’d nearly went home on the Airways challenge that she was supposed to go home early - they really _did_ just need a filler queen, and what better than the Russian bimbo to add a little flavor? New, unexplored language and background, maybe. And when they realized she wasn’t trying to start shit like the other queens or she wasn’t adding any drama - the most dramatic thing that had happened to her was when she sobbed like a little _bitch_ on Fame’s shoulder because she was losing her grip on reality - she’d slunk away from the spotlight, allowed the other queens to shine. She didn‘t need all that light anyways - it made her look pale.

She’d been breezing down the Pacific coast since she’d won her last challenge, and it was a quiet knowing that she would be next to go. Even Pearl wouldn’t deny that fact, down casting her eyes whenever they were around each other and listening to her silly rants more out of pity than actual interest.

Here’s how it would run down: they’d get one of the other girls to fuck up their challenge, make sure Katya was in the bottom two, have the poor queen lip-synch against her and the viewers would complain that it was completely obvious that Katya won that lip-synch, and then she’ll go home. Back to her small little apartment in Boston, back to Jaques Cabaret and Perestroika. Back to being the unnamed, Russian drag queen that stayed on for far longer than she was needed.

She was grateful for the opportunity though, and she couldn’t wait until Drag Race aired and she got to meet all the new people - hell, even Kelly Mantle got to travel the world and she was there for one episode - and have all the new opportunities and finally raise her booking fee.

Katya swipes at her eyes, realizing they were blurring because she was beginning to cry. The cameras are on Violet and Pearl’s obvious flirting though, so the slip-up goes unnoticed. She sets her hands back to work, despite the shaky stitching.

She’s is almost _relieved_ when Ru enters the workroom - even though she knows that it’s the final five and that Ru was about to stir the pot between her and the other queens. But she’d rather fist fight Kennedy Davenport than sit there in the silence for one moment longer.

But the Mother of Drag is not alone - of fucking course she’s not, when does Rupaul _not_ surprise? - Santino Rice ducks into the workroom, and for a split second Katya feels like she’s in a dream. He’s tall and lanky and handsome and a tad awkward but it’s Santino motherfucking Rice and it’s _glamorous_. It’s almost as if standing in front of Hades himself - very much terrifying, but slightly alluring.

Her hands still, the light shakes stop. Her jaw drops for the slightest of moments. Then she remembers where she is and frowns, going back to her work. There was no time to waste.

Kennedy, Pearl and Ginger are all vaguely unbothered by his appearance, smiling and grinning and laughing as if they’d known him all their lives. Kennedy keeps touching his arm - less flirtatious, more like a best friend sharing juicy gossip - and Ginger seems to be happy to see someone that isn’t Ru, Michelle, Carsley or Ross. Pearl is her usual relaxed self, floating on ice as she speaks with a Drag Race _icon_. Katya envies their ease and grace, envies the way they seem to float along with unflappable confidence.

Violet flirts and twists her long dark locks in her fingers, complimenting Santino over and over again, flirting so much that it‘s almost sickening. Katya envies that too - the way Violet can just fall into her sexy persona, the way she can snap her fingers and go from the quiet and mysterious Jason Dardo to the loud, sexy, rambunctious Violet Chachki. At first Santino is amused with it, he even plays along - the cameras gobble that up, swarming around the two for close-ups - but after awhile the obvious stench of desperation wafting off the young queen begins to bore him. Violet was so desperate to get laid she was seriously considering bedding one of her judges - which could result in disqualification. Katya doesn’t know why that gives her a sense of superiority, doesn’t know why the way Violet’s face falls at Santino’s obvious dismissal makes her smile to herself.

And then he’s standing at her table, practically hovering over her. He‘s looming, Katya realizes, and he has Pearl‘s droopy bedroom eyes. Except, on him, it‘s actually sexy and not just slightly annoying. Katya clears her throat and plays with the cuffs of the catsuit - _Santino Rice is_ not _sexy. Santino Rice is your judge, young lady, and you will_ not _fantasize about him._

“Hello, hello,” Ru says, waggling her fingers at Katya. Santino raises his hand in greeting, but he‘s mostly just been staring at her. He hasn‘t muttered a word.

“ _Dobryy den'_ , Ru… Santino.”

“Katie, right?” Santino asks, and his voice sends a shudder down her spine. God, how long had it been? She really needed to get laid. Or do _something_.

“In English, yes,” Katya says before clearing her throat and daring a glance at his face. His eyes are electric blue and they stun her for a moment. It takes several seconds of awkward silence for her to find her voice again. “Uh, Katya. It’s Katya.”

“Oh. That’s beautiful, is it… Russian?” Santino asks. He seems genuinely curious, and it’s the first time during the competition where a judge seemed to actually be interested in what she has to say. She can feel her cheeks warm up, can feel the tinge of pink flooding her face.

“Da,” she agrees. “I mean… yes.”

“Well, Katya, what’re you doing for your runway?”

“Uhm… I thought I would do a latex catsuit? I haven’t done one… yet… I mean, I did the leather and lace one but… I mean…” Katya clears her throat and plays with her fingernails, picks at the chipping purple nail polish. “I thought I’d do something new. With these little kitty heads.”

“Now, you’ve had problems with your confidence and your ability to execute the air of slight arrogance that every drag superstar needs,” Ru says, all business and no small talk. Katya’s eyes find the floor. “How do you plan to overcome that in this challenge?”

“I really just wanted to fake it ‘til I break it,” Katya says under her breath. Santino snorts. “I mean… I didn’t really… I was just going to do like Courtney Act and rely on my body. That won’t work?”

Ru and Santino actually chuckle and Katya gives a weak smile. She tries to avoid looking at Santino, or the way he seems to smile at her fondly. It’s a smile someone’s mother would give their child who was up to their usual antics - a smile that said he knew who she was and what she was about, despite only knowing her for a sum of three minutes so far.

“Alright, well, we’re going to let you get back to it,” Ru says glancing between them in confusion. The blonde realizes she’d been staring at Santino and adverts her eyes back to the latex of the outfit.

“ _Please_ don’t make me,” she jokes again, finding that it was easier to make them laugh and forget about the fact that she was so _definitely_ going home tomorrow. It was also much easier to make Santino than to endure that ‘I-know-everything-about-you‘ look that he seemed to have. Ru’s half-screech, half-laughter fills the workroom and the other queens send curious glances over their way. Santino laughs again and pats Katya’s shoulder.

When he slinks out of the workroom in that elegant-sort-of-awkward way of his, Katya let’s out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and collapses in her work table chair. She barely pays attention to Ru’s announcement on the second runway outfit they need to prepare, asking Pearl for the instructions after Ru has left the workroom.

Ginger and Violet give her weird glances for the rest of the work day.

**\--.--.--**

Katya knows the second that the judges begin Kennedy’s critique that they’ll be forcing the queen to send her home. A piece of Katya is grateful they chose Kennedy - they weren‘t that close, it‘d be easy for Kennedy to send her home. Kennedy sends a desperate look of pity and sorrow Katya’s way, but the tinier drag queen smiles back sadly and blows her a kiss. She knew it was going to end this way - what was the point in being distressed about it?

Kennedy turns the lip-synch out, and Katya is so definitely tempted to just stand there and yell ‘Prikhodite cherez!’ with Violet. But she lip-synchs because she can’t exactly give _up_ \- going home or not, that could result in her disqualification. Then she’d be just another Willam Belli wannabe.

The entire lip-synch, she watches Santino. She tries to keep half her brain on him and the other half on the mental choreography she‘d planned for this lip-synch. He seems thoroughly entertained by Kennedy’s flips and kicks - who wouldn’t be? She’s a great fucking performer - but his eyes seem to be on her for most of the time, watching her lips or her eyes or following her legs into the slow split. No one seems to notice their silent sort of staring at each other, but she can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the fact that he can’t take his eyes off of _her_ \- not Kennedy or Violet or whoever the fuck else.

She smiles at him after the lip-synch, and he smiles back with a small tilt of his head. She can tell that he’d wanted her to stay on longer by the way his mouth curls down when Ru calls Kennedy’s name. The slightly older queen nods and joins Ginger and Pearl.

Katya shakes her head slightly before turning her attention back to Ru.

“That means Katya, my dear… you must sashay away.”

“Blagodaryu vas tak mnogo, Ru, za vse. YA nikogda ne zabudu svoye vremya zdes', na etoy vystavke s vami i vsekh etikh milykh dam. YA vsegda budu blagodaren za etu vozmozhnost' vy dali mne, i ya vsegda budu blagodaren vam izmenit' moyu zhizn'. Spasibo, i ya lyublyu tebya.”

“Proshchay, Katya,” Ru smiles warmly.

The applause from the queens and judges as she leaves the stage will probably stay with her forever.

**\--.--.--**

Katya is back at the hotel, packing up the rest of her masculine clothing and checking her phone - 148 text messages, 200 missed calls, and jesus, since when was she so loved? - when there’s a knock on the door. At first she thinks it’s Michelle Visage to do the ‘Watcha Packin’?’ episode, but when she opens the door she’s greeted with a pair of familiar blue eyes and lanky grace.

“Santino?”

“Katya.”

“You can call me Brian,” Katya says, gripping the door tightly. “Come in.” Santino nods and she steps aside to let him in the hotel. It’s a complete mess, with pairs of jeans and sweatpants strewn across the floor and shirts draped over every piece of furniture that’s not the bed. Said bed is cluttered with Dawn, shampoo, body wash, colognes and perfumes. Katya runs a hand through her hair.

“It’s so much easier to be neat when you’ve got nothing better to do with your time,” she mutters. “Uhm, excuse the mess. I haven‘t had the time or patience to clean.”

“It’s fine. I won’t be staying too long. I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Yeah, well uh… you caught me,” Katya says, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. This was awkward - _he_ was awkward. Shit, why was he so awkward?

“I see. I just wanted to say that I think Ru made a mistake. By letting you go home, I mean. I think she should’ve sent Kennedy home,” Santino assures with a small smile. At first, Katya is taken aback by the compliment. Nobody had ever called Ru out on making a mistake, nor had they insisted that Ru was being unfair. Everyone knew that despite the producers idea, Ru tried to maintain a little bit of justice in the competition. It’s weird hearing that Santino thinks his friend was _wrong_.

But then she gets her bearings and clears her throat.

“I don’t. Think she made a mistake, that is. I _never_ belonged there with any of them - they were all glamour and all I was… all I am… is your average run-of-the-mill Russian bisexual transvestite hooker,” Katya grins, but she‘s sniffling and goddamnit, emotions, get your shit together. Santino smiles at her again, that same fond smile he gave her in the workroom and on the main stage. It’s as if he’s known her all his life, knows her quirks and adores them. When it reality, they’ve only known each other for a sum of 48 hours.

His hand reaches out to squeeze her bicep in a comforting gesture before falling back to his sides.

“Well, I mean, I came here wondering… well, I might happen to be in Boston few weeks. I wanted to know if we could meet up for coffee sometime.”

“Coffee? I don’t drink coffee anymore. Nasty addiction, caffeine. I just did coke,” she jokes. Santino winces and she looks down at her feet. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. “But… I mean… there’s this club, called Jacques. Jacques Cabaret. We can have drinks there after my show… that is, if you want… I‘ll text you the details.”

Santino grins at her, and those calm and kind blue eyes of his light up.

Katya’s heart soars.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations In Order (may not be accurate, as I used google translate):
> 
> Good afternoon, Ru.
> 
> Yes.
> 
> Come through!
> 
> Thank you so much, Ru, for everything. I will never forget my time here on this show with you and all these lovely ladies. I will always be grateful for this opportunity you've given me, and I will always be grateful for you changing my life. Thank you, and I love you.
> 
> Goodbye, Katya .


End file.
